<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Just a Quick Trip to the Craft Store by Freckles_From_Brooklyn</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29086068">Just a Quick Trip to the Craft Store</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freckles_From_Brooklyn/pseuds/Freckles_From_Brooklyn'>Freckles_From_Brooklyn</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>It's a spiral domain that's a craft store, Michael the Distortion - Freeform, Michaels the craft store, This is literally just a statement for a shitpost domain I came up with, because, idk I just thought it was a funny concept, y'know</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:28:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>568</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29086068</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freckles_From_Brooklyn/pseuds/Freckles_From_Brooklyn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Statement from a Spiral domain. Recorded by the Archivist, in Situ.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Just a Quick Trip to the Craft Store</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The craft store is large and labyrinthine. Harsh fluorescent lights beat down on you as you walk through the aisles, brushing past bunches of fake flowers. The air smells vaguely of cinnamon and something else you can’t place-- rot, perhaps? You choose not to dwell on it. You’re just here for a few things, then you can be on your way. You have a list. Yarn. Knitting needles. Aida cloth for cross-stitching. Paint and paintbrushes. A black pen. As you navigate your cart down a cramped aisle, scanning the shelves, you feel it bump into something. You look up. A shelf sits in front of you, filled with blank masks ready for children to paint and draw all over, except these masks look <em> wrong </em>, twisted. They leer at you. Was that shelf there before you bumped into it? You thought you saw a straight shot to the main aisle. More than that, you thought you were in the fake flowers aisle, but now the shelves are filled with more twisted, sneering masks. </p><p>Getting out of the aisle takes a long time. The aisle is too narrow for you to turn your cart around, so you’re forced go backwards in order to get out. As you return to the main aisle, you see a rack of brightly-coloured beads sparkling in the harsh lighting. You really should take up beading as a hobby. Your coworker does it, and she makes such wonderful things. No. You’re here for yarn. You need yarn. You need to make a scarf for someone. Your friend? Your boss? Your mother? You’re sure you’ll remember eventually, as soon as you’re out of this place. </p><p>You know where the yarn is. It’s in the back of the store. You start heading in that direction. You can see the shelves of yarn in the distance, but every step you take, it seems to get farther and farther away. The fluorescent lights strobe, just barely enough to be noticeable, just barely enough to give you a splitting headache. The aisles seem to shift as you walk. Why are the t-shirts in that aisle? They shouldn’t be there, that’s where the colouring books go. This isn’t right. Nothing is right. You know this craft store, know where everything is supposed to be, but nothing is in its proper place. </p><p>You shake your head, trying to clear it. Yarn. you need yarn. And knitting needles, which should be with the yarn. Except they aren’t. They’re in the aisle right next to you. And the yarn remains in the unattainable back of the store. With a sigh, you turn down the knitting needle aisle. But this is wrong too. The needles look different. Sharper. Deadlier. Instead of the standard sizing, the labels contain unfamiliar, alien glyphs. You sigh and grab a pair that you think looks right, throwing it into your cart. Hopefully the yarn will be labelled in the same glyphs.</p><p>You blink. You’re no longer in the knitting needle aisle. You’re at the front of the store. Your cart is empty. Why are you here? What do you need? You clutch a piece of paper in your hand. <em> Silicone moulds. Sewing pins. Leather. An eyelet setting kit. A wooden box. A plastic dragon. </em>You know where all of this stuff is. You’ll be in and out in no time. You start making your way towards the back of the store. </p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>